Stereotypical: The Shield Edition
by HardyBoyz4Eva
Summary: The Shield Slash. Sequel to Stereotypical. Ten less-than-innocent statements. Ten hilarious situations. One recipe for disaster. Full list of warnings inside. Please Review!
1. Real Men Have Tea Parties

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Kelly and Devon.  
**Rated:** T  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Threesome, References to Past Mpreg, Involuntary Cross-Dressing, Stereotypes, Foot-In-Mouth Disorder, etc.

**A/N:** Thanks to the rapid approach of my birthday (2 days away!), and the general consensus for a sequel to the original story, _Stereotypical_ (A Randy/Adam story), I have created the **10 Days of Shield Slash**. Ten chapters of a _new_ edition of stereotypical, Shield-style. Just like the original story, I will be taking ideas for certain stereotypes to continue to fuel the story. And, as always, this series and the chapters contained therein are meant for entertainment purposes only - this is not meant to offend. If you do not like it, please don't bash it.

**Part 1/10:** Real Men Have Tea Parties

* * *

"Mommy!" Kelly bounded over to Seth - she was dressed in a sweet little white lace dress, with white bows tied into her bountiful blond curls - excitement brewing in her pretty eyes. Seth glanced at her nervously, certain that he knew of her intentions. "Mommy, come play tea party with us!"

There were two snickers from the peanut gallery, which consisted of Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns. Seth shot them a scathing glare, before turning to Kelly, "Sweetie... don't you remember what happened _last_ time you wanted to play tea party?"

Kelly, in all of her childish wonder, shook her head fervently, her eyes shimmering with honesty and innocence. Even if _she_ didn't remember, the memory wasn't lost to the three adults. Whoever thought that a six-year-old could make an EZ-Bake oven explode? Bits of brownie and chocolate chip cookie had flown in every direction imaginable, leaving behind stains that none of them were interested in cleaning. In making the 'tea', Kelly had managed to break three dishes and _somehow_ - don't ask them how - throw one out a window she wasn't even tall enough to reach.

_"Please_, Mommy?" Kelly was pleading now. "Mr. and Mrs. Bear, and Dr. Fluffy, and Miss Spot are gonna be so disappointed if you don't come." Her bottom lip jutted out in an adorable pout that could make grown men crumble, she went in for the kill, "But if you don't _want_ to play with us, I understand."

Seth sighed, "I never said that I didn't want to play with you..." But Kelly had already hung her head and had started to walk away, swinging her arms like an ape in defeat.

"You don't have to make-believe, Mommy. I understand." Kelly supplied dejectedly, adding in a sniffle for effort.

Tilting his head toward the roof, he squeezed his eyes closed, mentally cursing himself for being so susceptible to his daughter's 'Puss in Boots Effect'. "Kelly, come back here." But it appeared that she wasn't listening, "Kelly - c'mon, Kelly!" Still, nothing. Finally, with a grunt, "Alright! We'll play tea party, okay?"

Snickers of "pushover" and "sucker" came from the peanut gallery. Seth offered them a glare, which only seemed to make the situation ten times funnier.

"Oh, you think it's so funny, huh?" Kelly, who had disappeared for a few seconds, returned with a crown of daisies for Seth to wear. Dean and Roman started snickering again. "I don't see any of you being man enough to sit down at a little girl's tea party."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What exactly are you saying, _Sethie_?" His joking, teasing tone was also slightly inquisitive.

"I'm saying that a real man would sit down to a tea party with his daughters."

Squatting down, he allowed Kelly to place the crown of daises onto his head. The little girl was laughing, clapping her hands excitedly. Taking hold of her Mommy's hand, she quickly led him out of the kitchen and upstairs to the nursery, where the tea party was to be held. Dean and Roman shared a glance, before breaking down into peals of laughter again. There was a reason that Kelly never asked either of them to the weekly tea parties, hosted by herself and her little sister, Devon. Seth just seemed to be better suited for them - that, and the fact that he almost always gave in without much of a fight.

After several minutes, once the laughter subsided considerably, they decided to head upstairs and watch the impending disaster from the metaphorical front row - or, in this case, the doorway. Not ten seconds after arriving, the laughter returned full-force. There was Seth, with his hair divided into two ponytails with big white bows, a pink, glittery bridal-style veil sitting on his head, a poor attempt at make-up on his face, and a fairy wand stuffed into his left hand. A fourteen-month-old Devon sat in her swing, laughing and clapping as Kelly poured the 'tea'. It smelled like distilled apple juice...

Seth offered them a glare - not that it had any affect on their laughing - and lifted his veil just enough to meet both men's eyes dead-on. "If _either_ of you think that you're getting laid anytime soon, you're out of your ever-loving-minds."

Neither took him seriously... until they found themselves locked out of the bedroom later on that night.

* * *

Seth struggled to unlock the front door, pushing it open with his hip and stumbling inside, his arms overflowing with groceries. A few seconds later, he dropped them onto the table - and noticed, for the first time, the unusual quiet that had taken over the house. "Um... I'm home! Anyone..?"

Still, the silence prevailed. More than a little disturbed now, he started looking around the first floor of their house, feeling the first clutch of desperation knot his stomach. His two lovers and his daughters were nowhere to be found. Damn it - he only left them alone for an hour, maybe an hour and a half at most! He'd been relieved when he'd returned to find the house still standing, but maybe he had reacted too quickly. Turning, he looked out the window, finding both Dean and Roman's cars waiting in the driveway outside. Technically speaking, they _had_ to still be in the house. It was way too cold out for a walk.

Starting up the stairs, determined to check out the second floor before really allowing himself to freak out, he found one room with a light on - the nursery. Intrigued, he made his way over to the door, pressing on it softly. It opened just a bit, just enough for him to peer inside. There, at the tea party table, were Dean and Roman and their two daughters. There were many other seats surrounding the table, and each was filled with one of Kelly's stuffed animals. Every person at the table had a tiny little nametag in front of them, Roman's reading "Daddy" and Dean's reading "Papa". But none of that really sunk in for Seth. What got him were the _outfits_.

Both men were in _dresses_. Roman's was a delicate pink that stood in stark contrast to the muscles bulging beneath the gossamer fabric. It was sleeveless, and went down to the ankles in tiers. A gauzy translucent wrap slithered around his shoulders, and his hair was done up in a ponytail with an obnoxiously pink ribbon. Dean was dressed in a blue dress, which seemed equally unsuited to his personality. The dress was long-sleeved, with translucent white frills at the wrists and at the hem, which was at his knees. He was allowed to keep his sneakers, but was wearing a tiny blue hat with a mesh cloth that hung in front of his eyes.

"Would you pass the tea, darling?" Dean marvelously captured the snobbish sophistication of a refined English woman... this time, it was Seth's turn to laugh.

"Oh, look dear - Mommy has joined us." Roman started a soft, gentle clap, and everyone followed his example. When he raised his hands, it became apparent to Seth that he was wearing white, gauzy gloves. He felt a laugh bubbling in his chest. "Would you care for a spot of tea, Mommy?"

"Oh yes, do join us. The tea is absolutely _marvelous_." When Kelly had her back turned, Dean stuck out his tongue and made like he was about to throw up, showing just how wonderful the 'tea' actually was.

Roman, taking one of the burned, soupy cupcakes from Kelly's _new_ EZ-Bake oven, passed it over to Dean. "Would you care for more cupcake, Papa?"

"Why thank you, Daddy." Their manners were spot-on, as was the requirement of Kelly's tea parties. "More tea, I presume?"

And it went on in much the same fashion for several minutes longer - basically, as long as Seth trusted himself to stand there without bursting into hysterical fits of laughter - before Seth went downstairs to put the groceries away. It was a decent half-hour later before Dean and Roman came downstairs, still dressed in their tea party attire, looking haggard and worn. Seth offered them each a water bottle, which they used to wash the last remnants of 'tea' from their mouths. It was funny, watching them shuffle over to the sink to spit out the water... Roman was having trouble walking in his dress, and Dean's certainly clung to him in all that right places.

"Sex." Roman's voice, back to normal, sounded gruff and a little broken from misuse. "Tonight."

"Of course." Seth stuck his tongue out, knowing that he had won this battle. "But on one condition."

The two shared a wary look, not sure if they were comfortable with agreeing to his terms. Finally, Dean asked, "And what would that be?"

"You have to keep the dresses on." And with that being said, Seth quickly made his exit, making his way upstairs and preparing for a particularly _long_ night ahead...

* * *

**A/N:** So, happy early birthday to me! You can expect an update on _Letters of Hate_ and _Conquering the Darkness_ as early as tomorrow, as well as the next chapter of this story. Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Real Men Play Barbie

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Kelly and Devon.  
**Rated:** T  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Threesome, References to Past Mpreg, Stereotypes, Foot-In-Mouth-Disorder, etc.

**A/N: **Okay... so today is my birthday. I know I'm a day behind with these posts, but don't fret! Somewhere down the line, probably not today or tomorrow (I'm thinking Monday, since I have the day off) there will be a _double update_ to make up for my slow posting. So sorry for the delay!

**Part 2/10:** Real Men Play Barbie

* * *

Devon sat on the floor, the majority of a chewed-up Barbie doll hanging from her mouth. Velcro strips, attached to tiny articles of clothing, were firmly secured in her tight, light brown ringlets. Her innocent blue eyes fell on Kelly, who was glaring at the second ruined Barbie doll in her mouth. "Daddy!"

Roman rushed into the room, worried that one, or both, of the girls were seriously injured. Instead, he found the remnants of the explosion of Planet Barbie, which had crash-landed on Earth. He sighed, "What's the matter, Kelly?"

"Devon's chewing on my dolly! There're holes in her legs!" Kelly was crying, suddenly disinterested in her own doll, in favor of the one Devon was chomping on.

Roman grimaced, looking upon the grisly distortion in the doll's legs. There would be no saving that one... maybe he could wrap them in gauze and pretend like she was a patient in the hospital? Gently, he pulled it out of the baby's mouth, "It's not that bad, Kell..."

But Kelly was sobbing, clearly distraught over the loss of yet _another_ doll. "_She ruined my dolly_!"

"Shh," Roman was quick to shush her, "You have to be quiet, okay? We don't want to wake up Mommy, do we? He's _really_ grouchy when he doesn't get his beauty sleep."

"What right do you have to call _me_ grouchy?" All eyes turned to the staircase, where Seth stood, watching the entire scene unfold. "You're downright _bitchy_ when _you_ don't get _your_ beauty sleep." Making his way over to the small gathering, he took the doll for Roman, "This? This is an easy fix. All it needs is some rubber cement and sealant."

"How the hell did you know that?" Roman stared at him, a unique mixture of awe and confusion on his face.

"Hell! Hell! Hell! Tehehehe!" Devon had a maniacal look in her eyes as she copied Roman's words - a true mini-Dean, through and through. "Hell! Hell! Papa say Hell!"

Seth rolled his eyes. "You're such a positive influence." Sarcasm was leaking through his words. "And you think this is the first time Devon's destroyed a Barbie?"

"I! Want! My! Barbie! Doll!" Kelly was screaming, quickly becoming so emotional that she was choking on her sobs and on the verge of hyperventilation. Seth offered Roman a look, as if to say _'__play with her'_. "I want it! I want it _now_!"

Seth growled, eyes narrowed, "Is it really gonna kill you to dress up some fucking dolls with your daughter for ten minutes?"

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Devon started right in, zeroing in one the words she _knew_ she wasn't supposed to say. "Fucking dolls! Fucking dolls!"

"Now whose the positive influence?" Roman snapped.

Seth, by that time, had grown tired of listening to Roman's whining. Whirling around to face the Samoan, he slammed the Barbie doll into his chest and hissed, "Fine! You go fix the fucking doll, okay? Happy now? You got your damn wish! A real man would've played with his kid for ten fucking minutes, but no. Just go fix the damn doll."

Dean picked the _wrong_ time to come back from the grocery store. He entered the house to two deathly glares and painful silence. It would seem as if even the children, who had been screaming and bickering so loudly before, knew better than to push Seth right then. Dean, however, wasn't quite as intelligent. Merely announcing his presence and asking what all the awkward silence was about seemed to earn him a death sentence. Struggling for only a second, Seth managed to take off one of his heavy leather boots and hurled it at the wall. Dean, eyes widening, barely had the presence of mind to duck before being clocked in the head. Barely seconds later, a second shoe followed.

"What the hell?" Dean exclaimed, turning to see the decently-sized dent left behind by Seth's first shoe.

"What the hell? What the hell?" Devon was quick to mimic, laughing and clapping her little hands, like this was the most amusing thing to ever happen. "What the hell? What the hell?"

"Oh, that's just wonderful. We keep going on like this and she'll be at it all night!" Seth looked ready to give up, and he suddenly looked very tired. It seemed to slip their minds that the reason they were on this impromptu vacation was because he'd dislocated his knee on RAW. "Dean, Roman, you're _both_ playing Barbie with Kelly. Now!"

Dean, still looking confused, carefully picked up one of Seth's boots. "What the hell?" He repeated, confused. "What did I do?"

Roman grunted, before grabbing Dean's arm and leading him over to Kelly's Barbie Dreamhouse. "Just shut up and do what he says. You'll live longer."

"I heard that." But, thankfully, he turned and continued out toward the garage.

Kelly was more than happy to teach them the ins and outs of playing Barbie. Reaching into her big plastic bin - which was almost as large as she was - she pulled out two Barbie dolls and handed one to each man, along with a tiny little brush. According to Kelly, the dolls' hair must be brushed precisely seventy-three times (although she wasn't yet capable of counting that high, so both men suspected it was merely a random number) before it was washed (in her little Barbie hair salon, a present from last Christmas), and then it needed to be brushed fifty-six times (yet another number she couldn't count to) and dried in front of the fan.

As they brushed the dolls' hair, she went over the procedure for the clothes. Thanks to Seth's little obsession with having all of the Barbie items neat and orderly, each Barbie (which Kelly had so carefully named) had its own little Ziploc baggie filled with the clothes that Kelly had appointed for that specific doll. Each item of clothing had to be lain under a baggie filled with hot water for exactly one minute, and then all creases were to be smoothed from the clothing. If the color of the clothing was somehow distorted or if something looked torn or different, then it had to be sent to Seth for mending. Both Roman and Dean snickered at the idea of Seth sewing, then promptly shut up.

"Why couldn't I get a Ken doll?" Roman wondered allowed, earning a sharp glance from Kelly.

"Only Mommy gets Ken doll. Daddy and Papa play Barbie." She said firmly.

Dean blinked dumbly, watching as Kelly walked over to the bin again. Once she was out of the range of hearing, he turned to Roman. "What the hell is going on? One minute I'm at the store, the next, Seth's trying to take off my head with heavy flying objects!"

"He didn't tell you?" Roman seemed surprised, but it was difficult to tell, considering the fact that his voice had jumped an octave when a piece of another Barbie house fell on his groin. "He's pregnant again. This time is really bad. He's already puked twice this morning -,"

Kelly turned around, glaring at her two fathers. "I don't see you combing hair!"

Grumbling, the two men set back to work. For all their troubles, they received a bombardment of dolls - it seemed that Kelly wanted them to run her dolly boutique for her. Every time they would finish with a doll, Kelly would take it and, stepping on her tip-toes, would place it in front of the fan. It was around this time that Seth returned, the newly repaired doll in hand. There was a tiny strip of gauze around the afflicted patch of her leg (just so Kelly wouldn't have to see the damage until he could get some skin-toned paint and cover it up), but other than that, she looked perfectly normal.

"There you are, sweetie." Seth smiled, handing her the doll. Kelly was practically bouncing with excitement, hurriedly thanking him before handing the doll over to have her hair washed. "I see that you two are running the doll boutique."

"Yep." Dean agreed, not meeting Seth's eyes. "Just two innocent hair-stylists innocently doing hair. No need to throw any hard projectiles... like shoes."

"Asshole." Seth mumbled.

And then, not ten seconds later, "Asshole! Asshole, asshole, asshole!" But the words were distorted, blended with slobber and the deep, gurgling sound of baby speech. All eyes turned to Devon, who was munching on a Barbie leg... a Barbie leg that had been dismembered from the rest of the body.

And three... two... one... "MOMMY!" And thus, the situation, having come full-circle, repeated itself.


	3. Real Men Sing

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Kelly and Devon.  
**Rated:** T  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Threesome, References to Past Mpreg, Mpreg, Stereotypes, Foot-In-Mouth Disorder, etc.

**Part 3/10:** Real Men Sing (Whether They Are Musically Inclined or Not)

* * *

For the Shield, when it came to their slowly expanding household, bath time tended to be more about stress and less about relaxation.

As Kelly grew and matured, her behavior became less and less of a problem. In fact, the six-year-old rather enjoyed her bath time. They'd stopped actually having to get in the tub with her at four - a little early, according to Dean's mother (which, of course, had translated to 'what an awful parent you are, Seth; why don't you just give up now?') - and had been supervising her ever since, sitting close to the wall of the tub to make sure nothing happened. And Kelly loved the water. She had ever since the day she had her first bath. It was like they were two halves of the same whole... they completed each other.

And then there was Devon. Devon, at fourteen-months-old, had had her fair share of baths. Unlike Kelly, however, Devon and the water were not one piece divided... she'd screamed bloody murder the first time he'd put her in the water, and every time after. Dean's mother (who really just didn't know when to stop pushing when it came to a pregnant, hormonal Seth) had claimed that Seth couldn't even bathe her right, and, taking the child, had done it herself. When not so much as a whisper came from the bathroom, Seth had locked himself in the bedroom for the rest of the night.

Left alone to their own devices, the three men - far from miracle workers - had struggled through bath time for the better part of seven months, when, all of a sudden, Kelly _sang_ to her. The rhythm was off and the words didn't make sense, but all of a sudden, Devon stopped flailing (and, subsequently, giving Roman a run for his money - not that the former defensive tackler would've _ever_ admitted to it) and relaxed. Seth had been cursing, wondering why they'd never thought of it before. Dean, who had just pulled a near twenty-four hour run with her (she was just getting over the flu), promptly passed out. And Roman... well, he was too busy licking his wounds to care.

And this new method of singing worked... until Kelly spent the night with a friend, leaving the three men to fend for themselves...

* * *

"Would you just fucking sing to her already?" At this point, Roman and Dean were both in the tub, their bodies contorted awkwardly so both could fit. Seth laid on the floor just outside, squeezing his eyes closed as the toddler's screams reverberated off of the tile. "This has been going on for half an hour."

Dean's light green eyes widened. _"Only_ half an hour? Holy shit, I think that I'm gonna die."

"What was that? I can't hear you over the sound of high-pitched assault rifles firing at my eardrums." Roman snapped. "And I don't know why you're looking at me. We all know that I can't sing." At that, he earned two sets of glares.

"You can't or you won't?" Dean inquired, his tone more than slightly menacing. "Because, let me tell you, in the last three days, I haven't slept more than ten hours. I have to defend my title against Dolph Ziggler tomorrow night, and -,"

"I don't hear _you_ singing." Roman pointed out. Dean appeared taken aback by the very idea of it.

"You ever see _Shrek_?" Dean asked. The question seemed totally out of left field, until he added, "I don't think bath time needs to end in an explosion, hmm?"

"That's a cartoon. This is reality. You won't _blow her up_ just because your voice sucks." Roman pointed out crudely.

"Nobody wants to admit that there is actually a lot of logic behind cartoons. Take the _Jetsons_, for example. An entire civilization of people that live above the clouds because of air pollution on earth. Feasible? Yes. Their everyday lives are run by complex machines. Are we making significant strides toward that? Yes."

"Fine, Mr. Cartoons-Are-Logical. Explain the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote, then."

Dean, never one to back down from a challenge, started right in on the science behind the snippet from _Looney Tunes_. Seth continued to remain stretched out on the floor, finding the coolness of the tile to be a nice make-shift ice-pack for the throbbing in his head. He was remembering back to when Dean's mother had taken Devon to the bath, and Devon had remained silent the entire time. Did it make him - or even them - a bad parent/bad parents if they couldn't get their daughter to stop crying in the tub? The fights between Dean's mother and himself were legendary... but maybe, even if the chance was miniscule, the old bat had a point?

"Am I a bad parent?" Seth asked. The sound was drowned out by the baby's wails, however, and he received no answer.

"That makes absolutely no fucking sense." Roman totally brushed Dean off, before turning his attention back to the wailing baby. "C'mon, sweetie, what d'you want? You want a rubber ducky?" Devon, upon seeing the rubber ducky, promptly swatted it out of Roman's hand. "I'll take that as a 'no'."

The rubber ducky flew across the bathroom and hit Seth on the head, bouncing off and falling on the floor. Seth jumped. "What the hell was that?"

"Would you fucking sing to her so that we can get out of the tub?" Dean pressed, becoming more and more agitated as time went on. "The water's getting cold and she's starting to get finicky." Not that anyone could really make the argument that she hadn't been finicky all night.

Roman glared at him, maintaining eye contact even as he pulled more toys off of the shelf to try and distract Devon. Every toy was either rejected entirely or knocked out of Roman's hand, where it promptly hit Seth. "I don't see you singing." Roman repeated his earlier argument.

"I have a headache." Dean offered nonchalantly, as if this solved everything. Seth wanted to inform Dean of his own headache, but refrained - mostly because he was afraid he wouldn't be heard over the screams.

"What the fuck kind of lame-ass excuse is that?" Roman was clearly unimpressed.

The dirty-blond shrugged, "It's good enough to get Seth out of sex."

_That_ was the straw that broke the camel's back. Suddenly leaning against the side of the tub, hanging over just far enough to hear Devon's cry at it's fever pitch, Seth hissed, "I suggest that you _both_ start singing _now_, before I go Sycho Sid all over your asses." And then, a little quieter, "A real man would've done it already."

As if frightened into action, both men started to sing. Not unlike when Kelly would sing to the little baby, it was almost impossible to tell what they were singing and he was sure that the tune was off - but just like with Kelly, Devon seemed lulled into a peaceful state by the men's song. In a matter of minutes, her cry settled, and she rested her heavy head on Roman's shoulder, suddenly exhausted. Dean, taking her favorite washcloth, gently washed her still-delicate skin. The water, no-longer the lukewarm that it had once been, ran down her silky-smooth skin in murky rivulets.

Once she was clean, she was handed off to Seth, who bundled her up in a little blanket and started to dry her off. Dean attempted to get out next, finding it slightly difficult with the way that his body was mangled inside of the bathtub. However, with a slight assist from Roman, he stumbled out, helping the defensive tackler behind him. Each followed Seth, a towel around their respective waists, into the nursery. Seth changed her into one of Kelly's hand-me-down blue and black onesie, which said "I believe in the SHIELD" on the front. Now dressed, he lowered her into her crib, and each placed a kiss on her cheek.

Everything seemed alright with the world, then. Until, of course, Seth turned around and offered a simple, "Oh, and because of that little 'headache' bit back there, no sex for a week." And, with the blow of a kiss, he sauntered into the bedroom, laughing to himself.

The look on Dean's face had been absolutely priceless.


End file.
